


Stained and Shattered

by Araconos



Category: Frozen - Fandom, Game of Thrones(Book)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 15:37:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1555457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Araconos/pseuds/Araconos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The line between Anguish and Anger is thin, so very, very thin. What if Elsa had crossed that line?</p><p>Set in the world of Frozen, with a heaping spoonful of Game of Thrones. You do not need to have read or watched GoT to read this. Frozen is a must, though. You should probably read the books too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Go watch Frozen for the second/third/nine millionth time. Get to the part where Anna turns fully to ice and Hans’ sword shatters. Pause it right there.

Imagine Elsa being a little less sad and a little more pissed. 

You got it? Now lean back and enjoy.

00000

‘Elsa!’ That voice, so familiar. It sounded so weak, so lost. Could it be? Dare she believe?

No. Hans had no reason to lie - he seemed good enough, even if he had tried to marry her sister the day he met her. Anna must surely be dead - this much she was sure of. And it was all her fault...

The crippling guilt began to settle in, and she pulled her knees to her chest, too mournful to hear the running footsteps head towards her. She didn’t hear the labored breathing, the swooshing sound that the sword made as it traveled through the cold air in a mission to find blood.

She heard that voice again - just a quick ‘No!’ this time - and then a tingling as if her chandelier had fallen yet again. The footsteps she had heard in the back of her mind halted, and she was pushed forward by a small shockwave, sliding a few centimeters forward across the ice. There was a muffled ‘oomph’ as a body hit the ground. There was the crackle of ice forming, then silence. Cold, blessed silence.

She turned around hesitantly, then found a hand of blue ice, held palm first towards her. Her eyes traveled up the blue arm that was attached to it, crossed the dress she had seen earlier that day, finding the braids that would surely be red if they were not that terrible, frozen blue.

She dashed to her feet, and ran to the front of the frozen form. Elsa’s frozen heart broke as she saw her sisters face, frozen in a scene of torment and fear. In her bath of self loathing, she did not recognize the protectiveness that was there as well.

She stepped forward once, hand reaching out to touch the frozen figure. She took a second step forward, then her foot slipped on something and she fell onto her back, the wind knocked out of her.

She couldn’t have possibly slipped on ice - ice molded to her feet, protected her, kept her up when she needed it to. He gaze dropped down to the shard of steel that she had slipped on. Confused, as if her mind contained the maelstrom that had graced the frozen shores just moments ago, she noticed the hand that Anna had outstretched before her, as if warding off an attack.

Who was attacking Anna? In her bath of self-hatred, she didn’t even pause to think that Anna could have been protecting her. Elsa stood up slowly, noticing the dozens of metal shards that littered the icy expanse, her eyes stopping when they noticed the top half of a sword, stuck in the ice by Anna’s feet. Her eyes narrowed, and she whirled around, directing all her loss and anger to the figure at her feet.

“You.” The word dripped from her lips like venom, and the redheaded man - boy, really - knew that he should have killed her when he had the chance.

“Your... Your Majesty, what has happened? I swear I -” The gears in Hans’ mind turned, as he desperately tried to think up a way to get out of his predicament. He looked up at the queens face, noting that her eyes were not aimed at him, but at his right hand. His eyes darted down, and he remembered the broken hilt of his sword a little to late for his liking. Eyes narrowed, he looked up to the queen, and his words froze in his mouth.

If looks could kill...

“Uhm, this? I just uh, found, it...” He lifted the broken half-blade, testing its weight in his hand. Elsa began to stalk towards him, each footfall echoing off the hulls of frozen ships and making him wince slightly. How did she not trip while stomping in a dress?

After a moment, he decided verbal trickery was not the best option, and went to flee. He slowly started to stand, getting to one knee when a wave of stinging ice was flung at his face. He dashed to the side, but a few still nicked his cheek. Shocked, he reached up and felt the side of his face. Warm crimson stained his glove when he brought it back into view.

Hans grew even colder at the thought. Sure, he had always run risks of imprisonment - playing his brothers off each other, committing treason left and right, stealing secrets, hearts and promises and using them to blackmail - but for the first time, a worse risk faced him.

He was going to die here.

In a fit of desperation, he flung the hilt of his sword at Elsa. Without her so much as moving her hands, a wall of ice grew out of the ground and smashed it out of her way. When the wall cleared her vision, Hans was on the run back to the town.

Elsa had never felt this much emotion in her life. Not when she had hurt her sister as a child, not when her parents had died, not even when she had been attacked at the castle. But right now, all her guilt, her depression, her years of loneliness and self-pity poured into this one, powerful feeling. 

Hatred.

She hated the man who ran like a coward before her. Hated him for ruining her coronation night. Hated him for chasing after him with that hunting party. Hated him for lying to her, hated him for making her kill her sister.

With a wave of her hand, a ball of ice and snow appeared in front of Hans, and the giant she had unthinkingly created at her Ice Manor pulled itself to its knees, once giant claw snatching the Prince before Hans could escape. The goliath began to squeeze, and Elsa could hear ribs pop.

“Sion, no. Bring him to me.” The giant stopped squeezing, turning to look at his creator and master. He nodded once, then his booming voice rang out over the ice.

“Yes. This is your kill.”

Hans, ever the valiant icon of honor and manliness, fainted.

When he woke, his hands were cold. His back hurt and he knew that his ribs were cracked, and he couldn’t seem to get enough to breath. One of his lungs must have been injured.

He opened his eyes, trying to stand, but he could not. His hands were chained to the ice, secured by that same material. He looked up, and saw the monster before him. It grinned, then spoke.

“Oh good, prince Hans. How nice of you to join us.” Elsa purred, and he knew he was just waiting to die now. Her eyes were wild, crazy. She licked his lips, then kneeled before him.

“Well, Hans. Today, you die. It’s very simple, really.” She grabbed ahold of his chin, turning his face this way and that as she examined him. “We have a witness - an ice-harvester and his reindeer took my sister back to the kingdom. I told him of my plans, and sent him on his way. He seemed... Pleasant enough.”

“Your Majesty, please, I beg of you-” His words were cut short by a backhanded slap.

“Do not speak to me. And do not call me that anymore - I am no longer queen.” Hans’ shocked look must have amused her, because she giggled. “No. I have committed a grave sin twice now - three times when this is over. Once when my parents died - I know it must have been my fault that they went on that trip. They didn’t tell me what it was, so it must have had something to do with my... my curse.” She bit her lip at this, and he was shocked to see it draw blood.

“Once again with my sister, and now, you.” She sighed, then stood, and he noticed she no longer wore her flowing dress. She now wore deep, dark blue trousers and a buttoned-up shit, as well as a red - how on earth could ice be red? - vest. She tugged on the cuff of her sleeves, then kneeled back down. “Well. Prince Hans -” She chuckled. “I still don’t know your last name. Oh well.” Clearing her throat, she looked him in the eyes, and he saw no pity or mercy there. Just disgust and contempt.

“Prince Hans, thirteenth in line for the throne of the southern isles, formerly betrothed to Princess Anna of Arendelle, as my last act as Queen I hearby sentence thee to death. Any last words?”

He opened his mouth, desperately trying to think of some way to talk his way out of this. He had done it before. He could do it again. Surely no one could resist his infamous charm and wit? He cleared his throat, then began to talk.

“Please -” Elsa suddenly silenced him with her lips, breathing deep into his throat. He was shocked into silence, and when she pulled away she spat onto the ice. He felt an odd tickle in the back of his throat, then a burning chorus of pain as he began to freeze from the inside. He shook in his chains, trying not to escape his fate but to escape the agony that was the end of his life.

After quite a few minutes, nothing remained of the prince but a blue statue, face frozen in torment, veins popping in his neck. He still wore his clothes, but they were dusted in frost. The queen sighed, then turned to her companion. “Shame. I wished he would have chosen dignity over trying to escape again. Would have been a lot less painful.”

The hulking behemoth didn’t say a word, merely raised a giant, flat bottomed foot to crush the corpse of the man who now surely resided in hell. Where I may rest quite soon as well. Elsa thought, grim. She stopped Sion in his attempt of crushing what was left of him.

“Leave his corpse as a warning of what I - what we are capable of. They will send less after us if they fear us for the monsters we are.” Sion pulled his foot back, then turned to his master.

“Where do we go?”

She paused, thinking. Then she shrugged. 

“Does it matter? Let us go farther north than the north mountains, and see what awaits us.” The giant nodded, then kneeled. Elsa climbed onto his outstretched hand, settling on his shoulder. They departed, leaving no evidence of their departure save the giants footprints, which were soon blown away in the wind.

00000

So, Yeah. This is not going to be a journey of love and sappy romance and things like that. It’s going to be bloody and violent. If you wanted some Sister+Sister bonding time, I’m afraid you’re in the wrong place. There’s going to be plenty of emotion, but not so much fluff and happy times.

Please leave a comment/review/death-threat if you feel like it. I’m not going to start charging a toll until I feel like writing this becomes taxing, which wont be a while because I really am looking forward to writing this.

Cyaround.

-Arac


	2. Introductions

They held Anna’s funeral a week after her death. Most of the population was still in shock, but there was more confusion than sorrow at the loss of their young princess. It was a strange, strange event - not really a funeral, seeing as the kingdoms greatest minds were trying the hardest to thaw their only remaining royalty. She was still frozen solid, blue as the depths of the sea, one arm outstretched and a look of fear on her icey visage.

Many people speculated as to what had happened on that frozen ocean. Some said that Anna had tried to stop Elsa from killing Hans, and it had backlashed on the two lovers. Some said that Elsa had tortured Hans before his wife’s eyes, and some said that Elsa had sacrificed the two for some dark ritual. There were a small, pitiful few who believed in the Queen’s innocence, and they held their tongues. Well, some of them did. The one who didn’t was chained to the wall of the building, his blonde hair dirty as his light brown eyes shed tears for the statue before him.

Kristoff was not well known by the people of the kingdom. The only people who had had dealings with the ice trader were those that he sold his cargo to and those he bought supplies from. The testified he was distant and rude, and had a habit of talking to animals as if they could understand him. He had rode into town on his ridiculous reindeer, the cold form of Anna in his arms, swearing up and down that prince Hans had attempted to kill both of the royal sisters. The story was dismissed immediately - Prince Hans, a murderer? The boy had been nothing but kind to everyone he had ever met.

No, the Queen - Ex-Queen - was as dangerous as the ice she loved so much. Beautiful, sparkling even, but deadly sharp and loving no one. She had brought up so many problems in her short rule of three days - freezing the entire bay, hurting her own guards, killing her newlywed sister and her husband. Even now, the members of Prince Hans’ party were hiking to the less - frozen areas, where they would take a ship to their home of island chains. The distance to the Southern Isles was quite a ways, to say the least, but the Islanders had left with a grim promise on their lips.

The Exile, Elsa Arendelle was to be brought to punishment for her crimes within by next year, when they would arrive. If she was not, there would be hell to pay.

Maybe even war.

But right now, the people of the capitol were gathered in the room where the traitorous queen had been crowned not even a week before. Whispers, glances and glares were directed to the prisoner chained to the wall. But Kristoff had only eyes for the frozen girl in the glass box, sealed with gold siding. Ice formed on the box, as the girl of ever-lasting ice made the area around her cold. But the kingdom was still frozen solid, everywhere. Breath fogged up the air, and people wore thick jackets and rub their hands together in futile efforts to stave off the cold. 

The choir began to sing, the low, mournful voices of the men overlaid with the high, soaring women’s voices. The whispering of the crowd stopped, although the wandering eyes of the curious crowd did not.

Kai stood at the podium at the front of the room, staring out over the crowd. Anna was behind him, to the left, and a painting of the girl sat on an easel to his right. As the choir finished it’s singing, he began to speak.

“Today, we mourn the loss of our beautiful princess, Anna. We do not know what curse inflicts her; and we will not stop trying to free her from it. But as far as we know, Anna has joined her ancestors in heaven, and today, we pray for her soul.”

Kristoff heard not a word of this speech. He knew that if he some how managed to touch Anna, she would come back to him. Not kiss her, even hold her, not even grab her hand. After two nights in the dungeon, he knew that he loved her so much that any act would be an act of true love. But he was chained to the wall in the back of the room, forced to know that he could free her at any moment if he could just touch her. So he stared, straining at his iron bonds, a guard on each side of him, tears poring down his face as they prepared to seal her away in a laboratory of some sort. Where they would poke and prod her, trying to find a way to free the girl when he knew how it would happen.

He was shocked out of his misery by a whiny from outside the room. A very, very familiar whiny. The clop of hooves rang out against the icy cobble street, and someone shouted “Stop that reindeer!” His guards looked at each other curiously - no one else could hear the commotion except those in the back. One of them left to check on the commotion, then came back a few moments later, his eye blackened. 

“A little help, man? This beast is out of control!” The remaining guard took a quick look at their prisoner, who still stared ahead at the glass coffin. “Come on, he ain’t going anywhere!” The guards exited, not noticing the small white figure who deftly lifted the keys off of the guard’s belt as he ran by.

Olaf padded slowly up to Kristoff, unnoticed by the crowd - so far. He was pretty short, after all. Kristoff grinned at him, then looked back to the Anna as he was freed from the chains. “Come on, we have to go.” Olaf whispered, but he just looked back to the glass that surrounded her. It didn’t look very thick...

Olaf did not like the look on Kristoff’s face. And he really didn’t like it when Kristoff told him that he had an idea...

The people in the crowd gaped at the little white man as he ran down the isles, climbing up onto the podium. “Hey look guys! A dancing snowman!” Olaf began to spin around on the stand, and everyone looked at him, a mix of confused and horrified. A few more dramatic women fainted.

No one noticed Kristoff slowly approaching the glass that seperated him from Anna. No one noticed him raise the brick he had snatched from the street.

Everyone noticed when he smashed the glass, the sound of it breaking like ice shattering. The guards stared in shock, then ran towards him, wrapping arms around him even as he stretched his hand out to grab her cold, blue one. It now seemed outstretched towards him, as if she needed him to pull her out of the cage that had been built for her.

He elbowed one of the guards in the face, throwing the brick at the other one. Their holds loosed momentarily, and he dove forward, wrapping his hand in hers. 

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the crowd collectively gasped as her blue hand turned pale pink, her dress unfroze and swayed as the ice receded. The guards grabbed back ahold of the man, but this time someone else pulled him forward even as he was pulled back.

Anna blinked, confused, but she knew that someone was pulling on her hand and she did not want to be dragged out of bed. She had been having the strangest dream... Something about living snowmen and talking reindeer. She opened her eyes, and they met Kristoff’s, and she squealed as she let him pull her forward.

“You came back! Oh thank god. Oh thank god.” She mumbled, her arms around his back and her head resting on his shoulder. The guards figured that she probably wanted the man nearby, and they backed away. Suddenly Anna looked up, scared. “Wheres Elsa?”

The question broke the crowd out of their stupor, but no one was sure how to answer it. They milled around for a bit, until one man yelled “The witch ran away, your majesty! You have nothing to fear now!”

Anna let go of Kristoff, her scared gaze turning into a glare as she scanned the crowd. “Who said that?” No one stood up to the crime, but after a few seconds under that burning gaze the man was shoved forward, confused.

“Y-your Majesty? The... the queen fled after she attacked you and your husband. We sent out a search party, but they found no trace of the traitor -” he rocked back as Anna swung a fist at him, stopped only by Kristoff grabbing her hand.

“The hell do you mean, attacked us? Elsa is no traitor! She did everything she could to protect me, and... Husband?” Anna started off her response furious, but then suddenly got confused. “I’m not... married...”

The man, who was quite a bit less confident than he was before, replied slowly and quietly. “P-Prince Hans said that...”  
He dove back into the crowd as Anna’s glare grew more intense, her face starting to turn red. “Oh yes, I bet Hans said a lot of things. Where is that bastard? I have a fist with his name on it. To even think about raising a sword against my sister -”

The crowd realized that they had probably hadn’t been told the truth. But the man had one last comment before he melted back into the crowd.

“B-But your Majesty, there was no sword found at the scene.”

~ ~ ~ ~

Elsa’s sword gleamed in the light of the moon, revealing its many cracks and fractures. It was held together by ice, and at this moment, a fair amount of hope. She swung it lamely, scoring a hit on the wolf as it lunged towards her. The sword was a lot heavier than she gave it credit for, and her arms trembled as she struggled to keep it up in both hands. The pack of wolves had pressed her up against the edge of the cliff, and her leg bled from a wound that head been scored against her in the start of the fight.

Sion was somewhere far, far below her - he seemed to have a habit of being pushed off cliffs. The wolves had woken her up with their howls, and she had summoned him in a fit of panic. The hulking snowman had been just as confused as she was, and the wolves had quickly herded him to the icy edge of the cliff that Elsa had chosen to sleep on - Because I wanted to see the sunset. Elsa thought to herself, bitterly. At least it had been a good one, because it was likely the last she would ever see. Sion had been unable to even score a single hit on the wolves, and in a fit of anger she had stomped his massive foot, breaking part of the ledge and sending him spiraling into the abyss with a few of the hounds.

But there were plenty more left in the pack, and the loss of their comrades seemed to only make them more vicious. She couldn’t use her powers - every time she raised her hand to cast them, a wolf would lunge, and she would be forced to grip the sword again to scare it off. But her arms were tiring, and the wolves looked ready to try a combined attack when suddenly there was a massive howl from behind the pack, and they made a passage as two more wolves arrived. Elsa’s eyes widened in fear.

The wolves were massive. Utterly gigantic. They looked to be almost as tall as she was, and each of their teeth was as large as a steak knife. Their paws were the size of dinner plates, and they had massive, dark eyes that stared at her. One was pure, blinding white, and the other was a shining silver. They padded up to a few feet of her, and Elsa futilely raised her sword, closing her eyes and looking away. 

She felt something slam into her sword hand, and the sword skittered out of her grasp and onto the ground. She stumbled, her arms flailing as she toppled over the edge, but something snagged her vest and tugged her back over. She looked in front of her and was startled to see the curious eyes of the silver wolf, who had caught her clothing in its jaws. She saw no hunger or malice there - just curiosity and intelligence. The wolf sat down, looking at her, then began to wag its tail furiously.

Elsa couldn’t help it - she laughed. The wolf she had been so scared of was now acting like a common dog! She held her hand over her mouth, her eyes closed as she shook with mirth. When she opened them, the white wolf and the other, smaller ones had left. The silver one stood some distance away, looking over its shoulder at her. It took a few steps, then turned to look back.

Does... does it want me to follow it? She wondered, slowly bending over to grab the sword. In an instant, the wolf lunged at her, slamming its feet onto the sword. The silver blade spun as she watched it fly over the edge of the cliff. She looked back up to the wolf, who was wagging his tail as he watched it fall down.

“Well. I didn’t want it anyways.” She lied, and the wolf barked once. It turned back around to face the woods, and then turned to look at her. She could almost see what it was thinking.

You coming or not?

She sighed, but she knew she didn’t really have any other options. This wolf was obviously tame, and if she had to guess it was bringing her to see its master. She walked after it, slowly, and the wolf wagged its tail again as they began their journey.

So Elsa followed after the giant wolf, heading off to meet the man who could tame such a beast.

Soon they reached a cave, set midway down the mountain that she had had Sion carry her to over their two day walk. The wolf went inside, eagerly trotting in towards the light of a fire and the smell of cooking meet. After a moment, Elsa followed it in.

“Ah, so our visitor finally arrives, I see.” She turned towards the voice, and only saw a mountain of white fur. After a moment, she realized that it was the white wolf from before, and as it moved to greet its compainion it revealed two men, seated by a fire. One had dark black hair, pulled back and tied with a leather strap. He wore a black cloak and she suspected that the sword at his hip was not the only blade in his possession. This man didn’t bother to look at her, and she felt slighted for a moment. Then she realized that he was clearing a place next to him for her to sit. 

As she sat down, she noticed the other man, who looked a few years younger than the other one. He wore a tan leather coat, and she was shocked to see strange metal braces around his legs. At his side were two crutches, she realized that he must not be able to walk normally. But all thoughts of his disfigurement were cast from her mind at his next words.

“Welcome to our humble abode, Queen Elsa. I am Brandon Stark, and this is my brother, John snow.” Bran smiles, then continues. “Around these parts, some people call me ‘King.’”


	3. Chapter 3

There were many things Elsa didn’t like. Her bed head. Very hot days. Those stupid chocolates with fruit inside. People who knew more about her than she knew about them.

Right now, there air was cold and her hair was fine. And unfortuneatly, there was no chocolate in sight. Just these two men with dark hair, smiling up at her and greeting her by name, even though she had never seen them in her entire life.

Elsa decided not to sit too comfortably in the seat that the older man - Jon, was it? - had prepared for her. The younger one, Brandon, just continued to smile up at her.

“If you know my name, you should know by now that I am no longer queen.” Elsa said, looking around the cave. There only seemed to be one exit, but the two wolves had sat down in front of it, resting their heads on their paws and watching her intently. She had very little chance of escaping.

“Please, Your Majesty, be calm. We mean you no ill will.” Brandon stretched, placing the bowl in his lap onto the ground beside him. “And you are, indeed, the queen. You may have stripped the title from yourself, but the kingdom has yet to renounce you.”

Elsa laughed, bitterly. She drew her legs up to her chest, staring into the fire. “If they haven’t yet, they certainly will soon. Murderess Queens don’t last very long.” Brandon just stilled, looking at her as if he was examining a rather disgusting bug.

“That boy deserved to die a long, long time ago.” He said, reaching for the ladle in the pot that hung over the fire. He scooped out a bowlful of the stew, then passed it to Elsa. She looked into it for a while, then decided she didn’t really care what the meat was. She was damn hungry.

In between spoonfuls, she asked “What do you mean by that? And how, exactly, do you know all this?” The stew really was good. The meat tasted like venison, which was a rarity when she was growing up. If I’m going to run, I might as well do it on a full stomach.

John suddenly stood up, heading towards the entrance of the cave. He rubbed the fur of the white wolf, scratching it under its jaw. The wolf hummed happily, and padded after him as he exited. “Bran, I’m going to go get some more fire wood. Don’t scare our guest off, ok?”

Bran rolled his eyes. “I swear. I’m definitely odd, but I’m not horrific, am I?” He sighed, then looked at Elsa, leaning forward slightly. “When I was seven, I was hurled off the top of a castle tower that I was foolishly climbing up.” Elsa blinked, startled, then reached for the bowl of soup.

“I apologize. That must have been... terrifying. Is that how you...” She gestured to his legs, digging in to her second bowl of the stew. It was really, really good.  
Bran sighed, stretching his arms. “Yes, that is how I lost the use of my legs. However, I gained something much more... important in exchange for them.” He patted the ground next to him and the silver wolf padded over, sitting down next to him. Elsa realized that this was her best chance to run if she wanted to. One of the wolves was gone, and she could easily freeze the other if she had to. And it wasn’t as if Bran could catch her if she ran...

She felt a moment of guilt as she thought that, but then she stretched out her legs and pressed her hands to the ground. Bran wasn’t blind, however.

“You can leave at any time, if you so please. But you and I have much to discuss, Your Majesty.” Bran smiled at her, nodding when Elsa settled back onto the ground.

“I thought I told you not to call me that. I’m no longer the Queen. As far as the kingdom is concerned, the Royal line of Arendelle ended with me.” She muttered, crossing her arms and drawing her knees back up. She felt a massive wave of guilt from this last statement, shook it away. She couldn’t let the grief consume her, not here at least.

Bran continued on with his story. “Shortly after I awoke from the coma I had entered, I began to have strange dreams. Nightmares, really. At first they made no sense. Sometimes I would be in the body of a wolf, sometimes I would be watching men fight... or die.” He grimaced. “I was eventually taught that I had developed a ‘third eye,’ so to speak. While the two eyes you can see now look into the present, my ‘third’ one sees the future.” 

Elsa looked at him curiously, then shrugged. Who was she, of all people, to try and disprove him? 

“I can only see in short bursts, but what I do see is always important. For example, about a week ago I dreamed of a girl with pure white hair turning to ice in order to save her sister.” Elsa shifted, uncomfortable with this revelation.

“The next day, I saw that same sister, besieged by wolves, and then I saw Summer here -” He patted the coat of the wolf, who panted eagerly and laid down on his front paws, content to rest by the warmth of the fire. “ - rescue that girl from a pack of hungry wolves. From that, I figured that I had to take control of Summer to have him rescue you.” The look on her face must have revealed her confusion, because Bran laughed and continued to talk.

“Sometimes when I sleep, or am otherwise unconscious, I dream of the future, of things that will come to pass whether I try to stop them or not. Some times, I simply dream. But most of the time - and these are my favorite dreams - I am Summer here. I become the wolf, and I run around the forest. I hunt, I watch, I play, I run.” He smiled, a far-away look in his eyes. “Very rarely is my sleep dreamless.”

The was a clatter of falling wood, and Elsa jumped up, startled. Snowflakes formed in the palms of her hands, and she raised them in defense. John just looked at her, amused and quite plainly intrigued. He placed the rest of the firewood on the ground, and then went to take his seat. His wolf padded, silent as a fog bank, to his side and sat down. “Sorry to startle you, Your Majesty. I was trained to be silent, and well... They don’t call him Ghost for nothing.” John said, patting the wolfs flank affectionately. The wolf didn’t respond, just stared at Elsa with those red eyes. 

“Ah, and I see you are not without talents of your own. We knew you had the gift of Cold - the trolls are quite talkative if you give them enough mead.” Bran laughed, and Elsa sat down, cautiously. “So. Time to get to business.” 

“We are here for one reason, and one reason only, Your Majesty.” John said, reaching into a pack on the ground beside him. He continued, still searching. “There is a war coming to your land, and the lands nearby.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Winter has come to Arendelle. And that means disastrous consequences.”

He pulled a short sword, still in its sheath, from the back, then placed it on his lap. He dug out a whetstone, then pulled the sword from its sheath. Elsa gasped. The sword - swords - were unlike any she had ever seen before. The metal shone a vibrant, pale blue, with runic markings that seemed to glow white in the firelight. The blade of the swords only had one edge, but John twisted the handle of it and the sword spilt in half down the middle, revealing that there were two pale blue blades. The blade was curved, and looked about three feet long and one foot wide at its widest. The blades each had a strange hook at the very tops on the un-sharpened edge. He began to sharpen the blades, running the stone along the edge in long, smooth strokes.

“The Southern Isles plan to declare war upon your kingdom.” Bran’s statement took her attention away from the mesmerizingly beautiful swords, and she looked at him with fear. “You know as well as I do that Arendelle would stand no chance against a nation as large as theirs.” She nodded at the truth of that statement.

The Southern Isles was an old, old nation, much more ancient than the relatively new nation of Arendelle. Whereas her small country had been formed a little less than four centuries ago, the massive chain of islands that was the Southern Isles was a kingdom millennia old. There were more than thirty thousand islands under the control of the southern islands, so large of a country in fact that the king could not control the entirety of it on his own. The kingdom was known for producing many, many heirs, and each would control a small section of the Islands. The king himself, however, would retain control over a third of the islands and the massive island known as Synholme. That one island on its own was easily the size of Arendelle itself. It was no surprise that the Southern Isles was the most powerful nation of their time.

“Thankfully for you, word has not reached the Southern isles yet - the members of the late prince’s party have had to trek to a port outside of your Great Freeze.” Elsa grimaced at that, guilty yet again about something she had done. She seemed to ruin everything she touched. “But once they reach their home port, all of Prince Han’s naval fleet, and a few of his brothers as well, will descend upon Arendelle. Once they arrive, which will be in about a year and a half, there will be two options for the kingdom.” He cleared his throat, holding up one finger as he spoke to the queen. “One. They will ask for you, bound in chains, to be delivered to their custody. Or two, they will immediately declare war upon the Arendelle.” He held up a hand to stop Elsa’s protests. “Hear me out, Your Maje-”

“Oh will you stop calling me that already? And the choice here is obvious. I will return to Arendelle immediately and give myself up for the good of the kingdom. Might as well do something to make up for all the wrongs I have done.” Elsa cut him off, already planning how she would get back to the kingdom. John spoke up from her other side, however.

“Your Majes...” Elsa glared at him, and he raised his hands in mock surrender. The swords were re-sheathed, the whetstone disappeared back into the pack at his side. “Fine. Elsa, think about this. There will be nearly twelve hundred ships, sitting in the bay of your kingdom. If you hand yourself over, do you think that they will just take you and bring you back to their homeland?”

Elsa bit her lower lip, then shook her head. John pressed on. “You’re right. They’ll probably make a big show of executing you in front of the whole kingdom, and then they’ll declare war on your kingdom anyways. They have nothing to lose - you just killed one of their royal house without trial or legal justification. The World Court cannot dispute their claim, even if they wanted to.” He cleared his throat, rubbing his hands together. “They’ll force a marriage and keep a puppet on the throne, probably-” He stopped as Bran shook his head slightly, unseen by Elsa as she stared into the fire, rubbing her temples with her thumbs. “- Probably a member of the royal court, whoever takes over the kingdom now that you have left.” 

“So... So what am I going to do, then? If I surrender myself, they might at least take over the kingdom peacefully.” John just snorted, laughing at her naivety. 

“Elsa, either way there will be bloodshed. The Southern Isles Navy has not been in action in decades. They know that if you don’t show up, they will have to fight to capture the nation. And if they execute you publicly like they plan to, Arendelle will fight them to restore their honor.” He shook his head, standing up, pulling a much longer sword, also sheathed, out of the pack. He strapped it to his belt, then picked up the swords he had sharpened earlier.

“No, there is only one way you can save your homeland - and I hate to say this, but it is indeed the only way. You will have to travel far to the North-East of here, and take command of an army that resides there. They will listen to you, and obey you, but only if you force them to.”

Elsa looked at him, curiously. “How on earth do you plan on making an army that I have never seen nor heard of before obey me, an Exiled Queen?” John walked over to her and held out his hand, pulling her up. He handed her the smaller pair of swords, then turned to walk a fair distance away from her.

“The army he speaks of is an army of monsters and demons, and they will obey you because they are servants to the cold. They are an army of men, enslaved by the power of ice. We call them the Others.” Bran said. Elsa examined the sheath in her hands, noticing the strong leather that held it together and the runic markings that decorated it.

“They will obey you, Elsa, Lord of Cold and Ice. But we cannot journey all the way with you - our mission will stop us before then. No, you will have to make the journey yourself.” As he said this, he drew the sword from his belt. He grasped the hilt with both hands, and rested it point first, on the ground.

“I can’t make such a journey on my own!” Elsa said, having a feeling that she knew where this was going.

“Not in your current state, you can’t. Which is why you are going to have to learn to fight.” John said, raising his sword up, the hilt at his waist-height. The sword stilled in its motion, and Elsa gasped as it suddenly burst into flame. John swung lightbringer at Elsa, she could only watch as a wave of fire and steel raced to kiss her flesh.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

So. Little introduction thingy here. My name is Araconos, and this is not the first FanFiction I have written, but I have the feeling that this will be the one I stick with. (Sorry to the people who have read my other two; I’m terrible at commitment.)

So. If you enjoy this story, please please PLEASE don’t hesitate to follow, favorite, review. Every little bit helps me out. I’ll try to update once a week, but if I somehow manage to get, say, 6 reviews the chapter might come out a little faster...

:D Blackmail, I know. Anyways. I hope you have enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

Arac


	4. Chapter 4

For the past three weeks, Anna had been resisting many urges. The urge to rip her hair out. The urge to rip other peoples hair out. After the first couple weird looks, she stopped talking to Joan. And right now, she was resisting the urge to run into Kristoffs room and curl up in his arms. 

But right now, there was work to be done. The table of men in front of her bickered, and it seems that there were holds barred. Names, accusations, and snappy remarks flew like arrows. She resisting yet another urge: to grab one of the axes hanging from the walls and start hacking until they all shut up or left. But she had duties to deal with, now that she was the ruler.

Oh Elsa. She thought. Why did you leave me with all this crap to deal with?

The Duke of Weselton, who had decided to make himself part of these meetings for whatever reason, was foremost at the shouting match.

“We demand compensation for the time we have lost trapped on this godforsaken island!” He shouted, standing on a chair in order to be seen by the rest of the group. Many of the foreign dignitaries agreed, nodding their heads.

Kai, who had become a great help in this political maelstrom, responded calmly. “Please, think of our situation. We didn’t attempt to keep you hostage; it was an... unforeseen consequence. We have used up most of our resources keeping our own citizens safe and stable; we have had to draw on crops from the entire country to sustain our guests and the large amount of our populace that was here for the coronation. We cannot afford, at this time, to repay you for your losses. But rest assured, we will repay you when we have the ability to.”

Most of the people at the meeting leaned back, displeased but understanding. The Duke, however, grumbled under his breath. “When are we going to be able to leave, Your Majesty? “ He said with a sneer, addressing Anna. “Any news on your ‘runaway Queen?’”

Anna sighed, dreading having to speak in front of these... men. But he had addressed the question to her, so she had no choice but to answer it. God, she hated the dance she had to do in order to survive the political war field.

She was terrible at dancing.

“The search parties we have sent out have no seen no sign of Her Majesty. We are afraid that if she does not want to be found, she will not be found.” Anna tried to hide the twinge of pain that coursed through her at that - Oh, Elsa - and rushed through the rest of her reply. “Luckily, the warm waters from the south are moving through this area, and my experts assure me that the ice will be gone within the week.” Already, the ice was thinning and cracking. Kristoff was having a field day, being assigned the task of harvesting as much of this as he could before it melted. It looked like, even after the reparations had been payed to their visitors, they would have enough money to sustain them selves through the true winter.

The dignitaries nodded, then an old rivalry between the Sinistral and the Ritus flared up and the shouting began anew. Anna groaned, rubbing her cheeks with her hands. Elsa, where are you?

A few hours into the meeting, there was a knock on the door, and Kai went to open it. Once he did, a man in a bright red jacket stepped in, flanked by two men in similar attire. Everyone in the room fell silent and stood, lowering their heads in respect. Anna hurriedly stood up, nearly falling as she gave a basic curtsy.

One does not show disrespect to a messenger of the World Court. 

The leader’s jacket was adorned in gold trim, and he had red and black shako beneath his arm, and a rolled up document in his other. He eyed Anna with distaste, then moved forward to her place at the table. He bowed, clearly unhappy that he had to do so, then stood, towering over her. “Queen Anna, may I speak to the court?” 

“You may, but please. Refrain from calling me with queen. I am merely a princess.” Anna said, confused and worried about the mans sudden appearance. 

The man laughed. “Well, after what I have to say here, you will think otherwise.” He turned towards the table unfolding the paper. Anna, with growing amounts of sorrow, realized it was a poster. The word WANTED stretched across the top, and he read from the poster.

“The woman formerly known as Queen Elsa of Arendelle is now to be stripped of all her titles and is declared a wanted felon. Any people who harbor her are criminals as well, and face up to ten years imprisonment. Elsa Arendelle is wanted for treason, destruction of royal property, and Regicide. If seen, contact the nearest World Court outstation.”

“A reward for her capture will be granted by King Galban, ruler of the southern Isles. The reward is none less than three million gold pieces and ownership of the Harmonic Isles, a small chain of islands owned by the king himself.”

The assembled crowd gasped, then listened as he continued talking.

“The land will only be granted if the fugitive is captured alive. Otherwise, the reward is the same amount of gold.”

The words took a moment to sink in, but once they did, Anna sat down in her chair, hard.

Elsa, don’t come back!  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

The swords clashed and parried, and Elsa grinned as she managed to drive John back half a step. Her twin swords moved in shimmering blue arcs, a coating of ice on each blade. When her sword met a normal sword, snow and ice shards would fly into the air.

When they met Johns sword, there were bursts of steam.

They had progressed past using the wooden swords Bran had carved for them, seeing as she needed to get used to the weight of the steel swords she now called her own. She was also learning to control her powers without needing to use her hands. She could make ice or control what already existed, but making large structures like walls required at least one free hand. 

“Your footwork is sloppy.” John said, his face showing no emotion as he gave her the advice. Elsa resisted the urge to roll her eyes - a single moment of weakness spells death on the battlefield. Instead, she replied in kind. 

“My footwork is perfect, John. I’ve always been a good dancer.” She dodged a lunge, knocking his sword aside with one of her blades, spinning closer with her other, with a slash at his knee. He deflected it with his small shield, pressing her back with a sweeping side blow, then an overhand that she was forced to block with both her swords crossed.

It seemed like thats what they were doing, dancing. The dance was unscripted, as was the song of fire and ice that they danced to. Steel on steel, his flaming blade to her frozen one, the feel of the earth beneath her as she ducked, weaved, parried, slashed, stabbed - she loved it. The swords seemed to sing to her, their leather handgrips comfortable in her hands. She had only been learning to sword fight for weeks, but she knew that she was better than many of the men she would ever face.

Many of them wasn’t enough for her. She had to be better than all of them.

One of the few she couldn’t beat stood before her now. His sword arched flame, swinging, slashing, breaking through her fragile defenses. One day she would beat him - she knew she would.   
But not today. Because she stumbled over a root, hidden beneath the fallen leaves. She glanced down for a split second, finding her footing, but when she looked up the sword was inches from her face. She flung up one of hers to block it, but with a ringing crash it flew from her hands, burying itself in the ground yards away. He slammed into her with his shoulder, and she stumbled to the ground, wincing. She felt heat at her throat as John held the tip of his sword beneath her chin, then pulled away and sheathed it. 

“I wasn’t lying when I said your footwork needed work. You are graceful, there is no doubt about that, but pure grace is no match against a surefooted opponent.” She frowned, then accepted his hand to pull her up. Her hands brushed away dirt from her leather leggings, and she went to retrieve her sword.

Bran still refused to say where her swords had come from. “They were made for you, and only you.” That was best answer she had pried from him. He didn’t say who made them, or how they knew how well she would fight with them, but she was grateful nonetheless.

“Come on. We still have to hunt for tonights meal.” John said, turning and pulling a bow from the bag that rested on the ground. He slung his quiver on his back, then whistled. Ghost emerged from the trees, silent as ever, and stood unmoving as John placed the pack on his back, then left for the cave when John patted him on the back. The wolf would find them once they had caught a deer or a few rabbits for tonights meal, then carry it back for them.

Elsa had a small pouch on her waist, and she reached into it and pulled out a long metal chord. She grinned as she locked the hilts of the two swords together, then strung the metal cord from the protruding hooks on the end of each her blades. Satisfied that it was secure, she drew back on the newly-strung bow, feeling the pressure on her arm as she drew. It had taken her most of the last two weeks to even string this bow - John had had her use a common recurve bow for practice until she was strong enough to use her own.

The bow was massive - nearly as tall as she was, and it was capable of firing the arrow massive distances. She, however, had no quiver on her back - she had no need of conventional arrows.

They set off into the woods, John occasionally stopping to check traps he had strung up. They had caught a rabbit in one of them, but to feed the massive wolves they needed a deer at the least. The wolves could easily catch food on their own, but Elsa required more practice at hunting than they did.

John moved as silently as his wolf, stepping over fallen branches and leaves in a low crouch, not making a sound. Elsa had at first attempted to follow his example, but eventually gave up and resorted to making a bed of snow with every footstep. The snow muffled most sounds she would make, and melted shortly after in the summer heat. 

The forest was quiet, the trees shaking in a slight breeze, their green leaves swaying. The air was warm, but Elsa didn’t mind it for now. As they walked, rested her hand on a tree, then pulled it away when she touched sap. Frowning, she wiped it off with some snow, then examined her hand.

Calluses were beginning to form on her palms and fingertips, and they were not the frail, thin fingers she had had before she left the kingdom. She was no longer clad in ice, but in clothes that Bran had given to her the day after she had arrived. He arms were bare, and her torso was covered in a thickly padded leather vest. She had a woolen undershirt underneath it, and every morning she wrapped her breasts in bandages to prevent them from moving and causing discomfort, rather than wearing a brassier. Her leather leggings went down past her knees, leaving her calves bare. However, the exposed skin on her legs was covered by the boots that she wore, that came midway up her shins. She stored many things in those boots - mostly knives she probably wouldn’t need - but they were actually very comfortable.

She prodded her bare arms, and frowned as she felt muscle, rather than the soft skin that had been there before. Whenever she moved her arms, she could see the tendons stretch and bend under her will. She was no longer the girl who sat, locked in her room, staring out the window.

She was a fighter, now.

Before she could figure out if that was a good thing or a bad thing, John snapped his fingers. She looked up, slowly, trying not to disturb whatever he had seen.

Right before them was the clearing they hunted at regularly. The forest ended, and she slowly climbed up the tree he pointed at, her bow at her side, not yet drawn. Once she reached her perch, crouching on a limb midway up the tree, she looked out onto the field.

About three hundred yards away, there was a healthy buck, its tail flicking from side to side as it looked around. Content that it was alone, it bent over to graze on the grass.

Elsa slowed her breathing, drawing the bow back. As she did so, an arrow of pure, hardened ice formed on the string between her fingers, and she looked down the sights. Most archers would say that this show was impossible - almost a thousand feet, at a small target, with shifting winds? With a normal bow, this would be impossible. And no normal archer could dream of hitting this shot.

Elsa was not a normal archer. And this was not a normal bow.

She pulled back on the string, at a full draw. She breathed in. The bow shuddered as the arrow left it, her fingers releasing the string. The arrow hissed, cold as it sliced through the air. There was a resounding ‘Thwap’ as the drawstring pulled itself back in, and the arrow hurtled at an immense speed, slamming into the side of the deer, piercing its heart.

She breathed out.

She grinned down at John, swinging down the branches of the tree. “Got ‘em.”

John smiled back. “I didn’t doubt you for a second.” He whistled again, and Ghost padded into the field, going to retrieve her prize. She smiled, disassembling her bow - Frostbite. She placed the metal cord into the pouch on her waist, then placed the twin swords - Frost and Bitter - back into their single sheath. Bran had told her that that was was what was written on the sides of the blades, and she was pleased with the translation. On the sheath itself, it said ‘Nothing is as cold as the final sleep.’

They began their trek back to the cave, and as soon as they arrived they were greeted by Bran, swinging himself around on his crutches. He was packing up the bags, putting strange leather contraptions on the wolves - were those saddles? - and heating up the stew, all at the same time.

“Whats going on, Bran? You shouldn’t tire yourself out like this.” John said, going to attach the saddles himself. Bran shook his head, going to attend to the rabbit stew.

“I just woke up.” He said, in way of explanation. The other two just nodded. “And... Well.” He looked up at Elsa, his lips pressed together. “Elsa, there’s a bounty on your head worth a small country. We have to leave by dawn.”

Elsa was shocked. “What...” Bran wasn’t finished however.

“And Elsa... The reward is still available if you are dead.”

John sat down, wearily. “Well. We’re going to have to be a lot more careful now.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

So. I couldn’t wait, I really wanted to write this.

Anyhoo... things are about to get a lot more serious. Our Journey has just started.

A few things, to those who are curious: 

Lightbringer is an actual sword in Game of Thrones. 

Elsa’s monster is named Sion (SIGH-on) after a video game character.

The names of the other 12 brothers(And the seven sisters) will be revealed soon enough.

If you enjoyed the story, leave a favorite, a follow, and/or a review! Every little bit helps me out.

Love Y’all!

-Arac


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